Bad news for Mac
by Sapphire1993
Summary: Mac hears from Frankie a terrible news.


_**Bad News for Mac  
A Foster's Scene**_

He came bounding down the stairs shortly after his name was called. Bloo trailed after him, looking annoyed that their afternoon games had been interrupted.

"Yeah, Frankie?" he asked as he stopped before her. The usually good-natured redhead looked solemn and gave the boy a weak smile.

"Mac," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "This is Officer Grant." The officer nodded towards Mac with a sad smile.

"Hello," Mac said, and his eyes wandered to the policeman's hands, where his fingers fumbled nervously with his hat. Mac's stomach froze. He had seen enough movies and tv shows to know that when a policeman comes to your house and looks that nervous, it means bad news for someone inside.

"What's going on?" he asked in a voice that was supposed to sound demanding, but instead imitated a squeaky door hinge.

"Yeah, whatever it is, it better be important," Bloo huffed as he crossed his little blobby arms. Frankie ignored the comment and went to one knee before Mac, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Mac, sweetie, there's something I need to tell you."

The frozen ball in Mac's belly quickly melted, forcing ice water into his veins. He cast quick glances to the cop, who looked as awkward and nervous as ever. The boy forced a crooked smile to his numb lips.

"Ha, h-ha," he chuckled shakily. "Frankie, since when do you call me s-sweetie?"

"Ooo-ooooh!" Bloo teased. "Frankie lo-oves you, Mac! Isn't that cuu-uute?"

"Bloo, shut it!" the redhead spat shortly, and the look she impaled the blobby imaginary friend with could have sliced him in two had she held it longer. Bloo shrank away slightly and covered his mouth with his non-existent hands.

"Yes, ma'am," he whimpered.

"What's going on?" Mac pleaded, now sounding on the verge of tears. Something was obviously seriously very wrong.

"Mac," Frankie started, struggling to find the strength to continue without breaking into sobs. She had to be strong for Mac. "There's been an accident."

The little boy paled beneath his messy brown hair. "An . . . an accident?"

Frankie nodded slowly. "Your mother was driving home from work Mac, and . . . another car ran a red light . . ." She trailed off as her young friend began to tremble.

"M-Mom?" he squeaked. Frankie's heart twisted.

"She . . . she didn't survive, sweetie," the redhead whispered gently. "I'm sorry, Mac. I'm so sorry!"

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks, and she stifled a sob as Mac stared at her with wide eyes. Bloo stood rooted to the spot, mouth hanging slack. His color had paled noticeably.

Mac stood motionless for a moment, staring at his older friend with wide, unseeing, unblinking eyes. Then he began to shake his head, slowly at first, but soon with enough force and speed that Frankie was worried he was going to give himself whiplash.

"NO!" he finally cried, eyes tightly clamped shut. "No-no-no-no-no-no-NO! That's NOT true!" His eyes snapped open and he jabbed an accusatory finger at Frankie. "You're lying! She's not d—she's okay! You'll see! She's home right now, fixing supper! I'll show you! I'LL SHOW YOU!!"

Suddenly the little boy turned on his heels and ran to the phone in the next room. Frankie, Bloo and Officer Grant heard him dial frantically, muttering all the while about what a horrible lie this was.

The line connected and he heard the phone in his apartment ring for the first time. And the second. And the third.

"C'mon Mom, pick up," he pleaded. "Please, please, please pick up. Please be okay. Please just be there!"

Frankie quietly stepped into the room while Mac's home phone rang for the tenth time. Bloo peeked out from behind her leg as Mac closed his eyes tightly, still begging his mother to pick up. Slowly, the blue friend made his way to his creator's side and placed an arm around the boy's shoulders. Mac looked at his imaginary friend, breathing hard, his eyes shiny.

Wordlessly, Bloo slowly took the phone receiver from Mac's hands, and gently placed it back in its cradle.

"Sh-she's not there," the little boy said quietly and suddenly burst into loud, wailing sobs. Bloo immediately threw his arms around the boy--his creator, his best friend, the person he loved and cared about most in the whole world. He had been created to play with, comfort and protect Mac, and had always succeeded in his duties. But now, when Mac was in so much pain, Bloo felt disgusted with himself. After all these years, through the loss of Mac's father and all the beatings Terrence delivered, Bloo was failing his friend because there was nothing he could do.

The power of his sobs drove Mac to his knees, where he wanted no more than to curl up into a tight little ball and cry forever. He felt lost and abandoned. What would he do now, without a mother to care for him? How could he go on? Where would he live? His life seemed to have come to a screeching halt, all because of a visit from one policeman, who had actually never said a word to him.

He suddenly realized that the little knot that he and Bloo had tied themselves into had been lifted and was now being carried across the room. He wiped his eyes and looked up, meeting the teary gaze of Frankie as she sat down on the couch, gently plopping the two into her lap. After some maneuvering—Bloo had an iron grip on Mac—she was finally able to curl her arms around the two, bringing them into a warm, tight embrace as she buried her tear streaked face in the boy's hair.

"Oh, Mac," she murmured softly. She was still crying steadily. "I'm so sorry, honey."

"Sh-she can't be gone!" Mac sobbed. "She just can't be!"

Frankie's heart wrenched in two. She wanted nothing more than to hold Mac tightly as she rocked him and stroked his hair and told him that everything was going to be okay, that he was going to be fine, because that's what you told people in situations like this. But she knew better. Having had her own parents torn from her life when she was only 5, she knew that things were far from 'okay', and Mac was miles from 'fine'.

But she held him tightly as she rocked him and stroked his hair and told him that everything was going to be okay, and that he was going to be fine. And she wept with boy and imaginary friend, hugging them both tightly, as though in doing so she could absorb their grief and relieve them of this pain.


End file.
